


Unseen

by jedisapphire



Series: Dean Hates Witches [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, HC Bingo, Hurt Sam Winchester, Invisibility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedisapphire/pseuds/jedisapphire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean can’t see Sam, so he has to find other ways to make sure his brother’s there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unseen

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the prompt "Invisibility".
> 
> Many thanks to nygirl7of9 for the beta.

Dean’s hand is on the head resting on his knee, fingers stroking gently through Sam’s soft hair.  
  
If anybody looks through the window they’re going to think he’s psychotic, sitting in the big armchair looking like he’s petting an imaginary dog.  
  
It figures, he thinks sourly, that a witch as twisted and evil as Ada May wouldn’t be content with just  _one_ revenge-spell.  
  
Her first one took Sam’s hearing, and wasn’t  _that_ a bitch. When it wore off, Sam’s relief, and Dean’s, lasted for exactly thirty minutes. Then Sam started to go translucent. Dean panicked, calming only slightly when he realized that, other than turning invisible, the spell wasn’t doing his brother any damage.  
  
“This’ll probably wear off, too,” he offers. “The last one just lasted forty-eight hours.”  
  
“Yeah, and who’s to say there won’t be  _another_ spell after that?” Sam asks disconsolately.  
  
As if his miserable tone tying Dean’s inside in knots weren’t bad enough, it’s distinctly unnerving to hear Sam’s voice coming from thin air. Dean rubs Sam’s head a little harder, just to reassure himself that his brother’s present.  
  
“Ow,” Sam mutters, shifting away.  
  
Dean reaches out to grab his arm, but his fingers close around empty air. Desperate fear starts to rise in his throat.  
  
“Sam, where are you?”  
  
“Right here.” An invisible hand pats Dean’s knee. Dean grabs it, feels along it until he reaches Sam’s shoulder, and then tugs his brother up to what he thinks is eye-level. He feels a little ridiculous looking intently into nothing, but he needs to make sure Sam gets the message. “Don’t  _do_ that,” he says, taking Sam’s other shoulder and giving him a little shake for emphasis. “I need to know where you are.”  
  
“I’m OK.”  
  
“I’m not, and I’m not going to be OK until I can see you again. So humour me.” Sam pulls away, but before Dean can panic he feels his brother’s head on his knee again. He lets out a breath. “You know, if you  _stay_  invisible, you’ll be able to take out bad guys and they won’t even see you coming.  _And_ you won’t be able to bitchface at me when I eat burgers.”  
  
Dean’s pretty sure Sam’s bitchfacing now, and he feels a pang that he can’t see it.  
  
“How about if I drive?” Sam asks. “That’ll help when we need to make people believe in ghosts.”  
  
“It’ll also help if we want to get pulled over by bored traffic cops with time to kill. Hey, Sammy?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“How’d your clothes go invisible, too? It can’t be that the spell acts on anything you touch, because I’m fine.”  
  
“I think it acts on things I wear,” says Sam. “Hey, what happened to Ada May?”  
  
“I don’t know. Her place is gutted. Probably staying at a hotel or with some kind neighbour who took pity on her and didn’t realize she’s a genuine, large-as-life witch. Why?”  
  
“I don’t think we’re done with her yet. What if this  _isn’t_ a residual spell from when I burnt her altar? What if she’s casting it  _now_?”  
  
“Checked the room for hex bags after you went invisible. There’s nothing… But you’re right. I don’t think we’re done with her. She didn’t seem like the type to go down without a fight.” Dean’s hand goes back to Sam’s head, in a soothing motion he knows from experience will calm the kid down. “We’ll worry about it later,” he says. “Right now we’re just worrying about  _you_.”  
  
Sam mumbles something incomprehensible. Dean wanted to calm him down, but it sounds like he’s soon going to be out for the count.  
  
“Hey,” Dean says, “Get to bed if you’re going to fall asleep. I can’t move your Sasquatch ass when you’re invisible. You think the bedclothes will disappear if you’re under the covers?”  
  
“Very funny,” Sam mutters, but he gets up.  
  
The blanket  _doesn’t_ disappear. It moulds itself around a Sam-sized shape in a way that’s at once creepy and reassuring.  
  
Dean draws the curtains and hits the lights. In the darkness, with only the sound of Sam’s even breathing in the room, it feels like everything is normal.


End file.
